Lively’s On Le Tour

In Barcelona, we met up with my dad’s first cousin, Alberto. He lives near Barcelona with his daughter and grandkids. It was a very happy reunion.

While we were only in Barcelona a couple days, they were dominated by “modernisme” architecture. First, our airbnb was in Casa Ramos, built in 1906 and designed by Jaume Torres i Grau. It felt like being inside a museum. It’s only fitting that our host is an architect and his wife is an artist. They’ve lived in the spacious second floor apartment for 40 years. They had turned the space into two separate apartments, one being the Airbnb and the other being their residence. Our host gave us a tour of his apartment too and talked to us about the history of the place. He was so welcoming and always had the door to his apartment open to us.

We walked over to Antoni Gaudi works including Casa Mila, Casa Vicens, Casa Batllo, Sagrada Familia, and Park Güell. And finally, we went to the Sant Pau hospital, which was opened in 1930 and in use as a hospital until 2009. It was designed by Lluís Domènech i Montaner. It was a must see from our Airbnb host, and he was right. The buildings and the grounds were beautiful.

We arrived in San Sebastián 5 hours earlier than we originally planned, due to a tip from our tour guide the previous day in Bilbao. Rather than taking the train I had already booked and paid for, he suggested a bus, which was a direct one and a half hours ride to San Sebastián. Garrett suggested lockers for our bags, so when we arrived we were off and ready to go. We walked along La Concha beach and then down to the port and around Urgull mountain. The weather was perfect, sunny but still slightly chilly.

I booked a Pintxo tour for the first night, thinking it would be a great way to figure out the best places to eat for the duration of our stay. The tour was a blast, and one of the highlights of the trip. There were six of us from the US and a couple from Sweden. Our group got along great, the conversations were easy and fun. Halfway through the night it felt more like we were all old friends (maybe that was the wine).

The food was amazing. We had mussels, black label jamon iberico (fed only acorns in the last few months of its life), the Gilda, anchovies, duck, and steak. All paired with various wines of the area. The Gilda is was the first pintxo, made of green olives, ibarra chile peppers, and an anchovy (I’ll include a picture). Garrett and I were big fans. My dad had an open mind about the anchovies and mussels and that’s really all I could ask of him. But to add to that, he even claims to have liked everything! We finished the tour with the original Basque cheesecake with sherry, and I knew from the first bite that I would miss it for forever. At the end of the tour, our whole group decided to stay together for one more drink. We eventually said goodbye with hugs and the warm feeling of a really good night.

The next few days in San Sebastián went as follows: breakfast then a morning hike led by Garrett, lunch/siesta, a couple hours at the beach, ending the night walking around eating pintxos in the old town. For two nights we went to a Michelin rated pintxo bar. I had cheesecake all three nights. For me San Sebastián is the highlight. The food was amazing, but just the overall pace was slower. It was so relaxing and I think that’s what we all needed.

We made it to Bilbao and checked into an Airbnb only blocks from the famous Guggenheim museum. The Airbnb had these amazing windows overlooking a busy street and I spent a considerable amount of time people watching from the bench in front of the windows. It was the perfect home base for us.

Bilbao was a rainy and busy city. People were on their way to work and kids were dropped off and picked up from school. It didn’t feel so much like a tourist city, even though a tourism effect has been named for the city. The Bilbao Effect refers to a phenomenon that occurs when a city experiences significant urban transformation, revitalization, and economic growth through the construction of iconic architectural landmarks, in this case: the Guggenheim. We learned that the Guggenheim was 100% funded by the city of Bilbao, and has earned a return 37 times over. An unquestionably good investment.

We spent the first rainy half day walking around the sculptures around the exterior of the museum, including Puppy by Jeff Koons and Maman by Louise Bourgeois. The museum itself was impressive. On day two when we went inside the museum my dad remarked that the building itself created tension and the art eased the tension. I’m sure I haven’t done his thoughts justice, but it resonated with me how a building design and the contents of the building can balance each other.

The second night we do a pintxo (the ‘tx’ is pronounced like ‘ch’) food tour. Pintxos are like a little snack on a piece of bread that’s commonly found in bars in the Basque region. We learned that the locals will go from bar to bar trying different pintxos. The food tour was good and the company was nice. Everyone was social but when it was over we all went our separate ways.

On our third and final day, we took a day trip to San Juan Gaztelugatxe, the setting of Dragon Stone in Game of Thrones. It was beautiful, but also a really challenging hike. All three of us made it ok though! After the hike, we grabbed bite to eat in Mundaka on the coast. We finished the tour in Guernica, the site that was aerially bombed in the Spanish civil war in 1937, and inspired Pablo Picasso’s Guernica. We saw a tile replica of the painting in Guernica. The bombing was carried out by Franco’s Nationalist part (though they don’t admit it to this day) and led to his ultimate victory over Northern Spain. Under the Franco regime, all languages besides Castilian spanish were suppressed. Meaning the Basque language Euskera was no longer allowed to be spoked. This was overturned in the 70s and our tour guide proudly explained that children now learn Euskera in schools and 40% of the people leaving in the Basque region can speak Euskera.

Well, well, well. Señora Editoria llego a España. I have arrived. I welcomed the guys to Madrid at a fancy hotel I booked with points from my travels. I watched from the lobby as Garrett limped into the hotel, showing off his new sneakers and my dad with his walking stick. Both had full beards (Garrett’s as full to the extent possible). Both assured me they were feeling great after their Camino. We met up after check in, and my dad walked out of the room eating, you guessed it, a bar of chocolate. He was thrilled to tell me this was his first bar of chocolate in weeks. I thought it was funny that he took advantage of the minibar in the room, which I was paying for. But I was happy to treat him to exorbitantly priced chocolate to celebrate his Camino.

We spent the afternoon at the Prado museum (basically the Lourve of Spain). Garrett and I took some lessons from our time at the Louvre and tried to focus on what we wanted to see, rather than trying to see everything. We asked my dad if he wanted to eat before we went, to which he replied that he would be fine until dinner. He was in fact not “fine until dinner,” and we had to stop for popsicles after the first floor. My favorite in the Prado was The Garden of Earthly Delights a triptych by Hieronymus Bosch painted between 1490 and 1510. I could have sat in front of this painting for days and still found new interesting things about it. The painting is incredible on its own and then considering it was painted in the Middle Ages makes it that much more incredible.

Once we got tired of the museum, we stopped at a bar for some tapas and cervesas (sin alcohol for Garrett) and they told me all about their trip. Although I think there are some aspects that they’ve agreed remain on the Camino, including how many times my dad left without his phone, only to be rescued by Garrett. To Garrett’s chagrin, my dad decided that sitting in a noisy bar was a good time to call every Quintana he knew and tell them about his Camino on speaker phone.

I should tell you that I will be sharing fewer photos on the blog than my predecessors. I’ve been prioritizing taking photos on my film camera, and have not been getting as many digital photos on my phone. I’m really excited to see how my film turns out, and as I sit here today, I’ve already finished a roll.

I left my last entry off at arriving at the Cathedral because, in part, it felt like the bookend of the journey despite it being far from the end of the day.

After we basked for a while in the courtyard celebrating our accomplishments, we made our way over to the Pilgrim's reception office to receive our Compostela, which certifies our journey. The office feels a lot like a more efficient version of DMV - except it has a gift shop. We each received a queue ticket and eagerly awaited our number to pop up on a screen to tell us which desk we were assigned to.

The Compostela is a gorgeous document, written in Latin and supposedly a relatively exact replica (in terms of verbiage and layout) of the certification given to Pilgrims in the 13th century... And I paid the extra few euros to have my distance certified and get a protective tube. I also finally broke down and bought the most outrageous touristy souvenir of the Camino - a scallop shell stamped with the cross of St James.

Light historical aside - The scallop shell predated the Compostela as certification of your journey, but was quickly found to be too easy to counterfeit. The Cross of St. James is a common emblem of many associations in Portugal and Spain dating back to religious and military orders in the 12th century. You see both symbols everywhere in Galicia, whether on the Camino or not - you can see them throughout photos in many of our previous entries.

I determined since I actually finished the Camino - unlike the posers who had bought their shells back on the beaches of Porto or in the Pyrenees - I could justify my ownership. Plus it might make a good souvenir for Griffin if she ever reads this and tells me she wants it. Also, I ran into Jen from Austin - lover of cinnamon swirl pumpkin pancakes and Kerbey Queso - who we had met 5 days earlier... She was excited to return Austin and eat at her favorite restaurant.

After receiving our official and non-official certifications, we decided to look for beer and/or ice cream. Unfortunately, we decided on the former and I don't think we could've picked a worse table in all of Santiago. We found an old bar in the old town, the table was probably slanted 15 degrees and we were seated next to a biking club of maybe 12 middle aged and exceedingly inebriated men who had also apparently just completed the Camino via cycling... Which... C'mon. Yeah technically you have to complete 200 km instead of 100 km (Raul and I did 280 officially for the record) to get you Compostela...but you're on a bicycle. These guys were drunk when we showed up and did 3-4 rounds of shots in the time we finished our drinks and paid our - which we were rushing to do. They sang happy birthday 6 times - 3 in English 3 in Spanish - to no discernible celebrant. They also were irritatingly good at whistling. Except for one guy who had one of those pull-pin pocket alarms to compensate. At least it made for a funny story.

After we cleaned up a bit, we headed back to the cathedral for the 7:30 pm Mass and ran into Sal and his family who were just arriving to the endpoint of their journey. We exchanged hugs and congratulations, and chatted for a bit as we were heading the same way. As they turned to view the cathedral, we turned toward the back plaza where Pilgrims enter the cathedral for mass. The line was massive. I'd heard to expect as much, but also that the Cathedral is massive and they're pretty good at squeezing everyone in. But for us, there were three Pilgrims in front of us when they announced the Cathedral was full and we would not be attending mass.

Fortunately for our motley crew, we were all available to attend the mass the following morning, but I imagine for many of the hundreds of Pilgrims that was not the case.

So instead we went to have dinner. It was just before 8pm so we were the first patrons of a small restaurant, but we were happy to find they served hamburgers, a dish Raul has been craving since the very first step on the Camino. Appropo for the region? No. A fitting end to our journey? Let's compare facial expressions.

It was indeed a crisp, mostly overcast morning as we left the outskirts of Padron to begin our final walk. Loretta walked about a mile and half to get to our hotel and she was ready to go. Nothing on this earth could have kept her from joining us on this day.

The clouds hovered over us for the first half of the day, shading us like a giant umbrella along the path. We kept a good pace, and stoped to refuel only twice during the first three hours. Our fellow walkers all seemed in a good mood and we pass several musicians in the middle of the forest that brought moments of shared joy and surprise.

The mood for us was giddy most of the day, telling jokes, stopping to photograph the animals (I'm surprised Garrett did not share any of his photos of longhorn steers, he must have enough by now to publish a small book), and generally the time passed with us hardly noticing.

The hardest part of the walk would be the elevation changes, especially steep at the end, making the walk into Santiago difficult and long. As Garrett mentioned, we stumbled into Sal and his family and had a successful "sock" exchange. We are never far from Santiago, in fact from some of the high points along the route we began to see the city and, depending where we were, even the steeples of the cathedral.

The final few kilometers took forever. Santiago seemed like a clean and cosmopolitan city, with lots of activity. We found our hotel, changed into lighter clothes and headed for the cathedral to mark the official end of our Camino, as millions of pilgrims have done before us.

I have often thought what it would feel like the moment we arrived. I imagined us entering the plaza, speachless, in awe, needing each other to lean on. I imagined people of every nationality, race and belief, embracing, aknowledging indeed it was the end of a 'Buen Camino'. I imagined the frail and elderly, those that have braved through countless hardships, or that had come searching for answers to life's many questions, relieved to have made it and unable to contain a fountain of emotions.

The crooked streets of the historic district were filled with people. It felt a bit like a carnival, fellow pilgrims going in different directions, some leaving with loaded backpacks, others just arriving. The tight medievel streets set the stage perfectly as one short block turned into a small plaza, which lead us into another narrow path. A wrong turn could lead us away from the cathedral. We pivot onto the Rua do Franco, and for the first time we saw one of the spires of the cathedral rising above the roofs of the adjoining buildings. Almost without noticing, we entered the grand plaza do Obradoiro from the south corner of the cathedral.

The cathedral, stunning in its baroque opulance, was more ornate than I could have imagined. No longer an image in my mind, but a real place, centuries in the making. Garrett, unable to contain his own emotions, embraces me and together we slowly made our way to the center of the plaza. Loretta takes our photos and joins us in this moment of relief and collective gratitude.

We leave the plaza to collect our prized certificates,and carry them around like diplomas. Later we decide to try and attend the 7:30 mass, so after cleaning up we meet at the southern stairs, a long line has already formed in the plaza called Quintana de los Muertos (could not possibly be more apropos.) The line for the mass is long and we are near the back, so by the time we get to entrance, the church is full and we are turned away.

Disappointed, but undaunted we decided to grab a bite to eat and have a celebratory beer. We searched for a quiet spot near the cathedral and settle on an indoor restaurant, away from the rowdier crowds and brazen pigeons that sweep unexpectedly onto the tables.

It's our final meal with Loretta, so I ask her what made her decide to stick with us when she could have gone on her own. "I thought you guys were funny," she said. "I haven't laughed this much in a long time."

"I want to thank you both so much for the comapny on this walk," she added. "I will never forget it."

"We enjoyed having you Loretta," we replied. "It would not have been the same witout you."

"When I get married, you will both be invited to my wedding," she tells us. "And, Raul, I want you to give the speech"

"Loretta. I wouldn't miss it for the world," I replied, touched that she would want us to be at her wedding, and that over the past six days, she would come to see us as family.

In the morning we, emerge from our hotel no longer pilgrims on the Camino, but tourists preparing for a 3 hour guided bus tour to the Finesterre. But first, we need to make it to the 7:30 AM Pilgrim mass at the Cathedral, an opportunity we cannot miss so I leave the hotel before Garrett to make sure we have a place in line. I get there and there is no line this time.

I'm surprised to see Loretta at mass, and shortly Garrett comes in accompanied by Lisa, a Scottish girl we befriended on the walk. We crossed paths with her and her cousin throughout the walk and she was overjoyed to see us, having just finished her Camino in time for the mass.

"I have to warn you," she tells me. "I will probably cry."

The mass is in Spanish, and is beautifully spiritual. Lisa weeps beside me and I cry along with her. I felt called to come on this walk, to share it with Garrett, to meet a host of people, to see the light of Christ guiding our path when we were hurting or lost, or couldnt find our way down the mountain. He was with us the entire way.

This is my final post. I want to thank Cat for editing my garbled thoughts, and for her stubborn insistence that I not go on this trip alone. I know Nick wanted to join me and, it would have been unbelievable to have him, but sometimes God has other plans. To Nick, I say, we will have our own Camino some day.

To Vicki, who has supported my desire to go on this trip, despite a hurricane that flooded our home and has sent us adrift for 7 months, thanks for all your love and understanding. I could not have gone through the months of preparation, planning, coordinating flights, and everything else without her full support. You knew I needed this trip even more than I did and did not let me down. I love you.

And finally to Garrett. My companion and constant anchor throughout this journey. Cat was right, you were the perfect person to go with. You were easy to walk with, talk with and be silent with. You were willing to go wherever the path took us, always asking if I was ok with it, never getting upset, tired of me or my quirky forgetfulness (no matter how many times I left my phone behind). It was an honor to share this Camino with you, and I know there will be others in your life, maybe someday with your own son-in-law. If the opportunity comes up, I highly recommend it.

Raul

I don't know that we could've handpicked much better weather for our run in to Santiago. After days and days of taxing heat, we were treated to overcast skies, cool temperatures, and no rain in sight. Our rag tag trio seemed energized by the finale, so we made great time winding through the neighborhoods and towns leading up to Santiago. We made our usual stops and breaks to refuel, reset bandages, and generally keep from petering out, yet we seemed to be catching and overtaking the usual cast of Pilgrims who had matched or exceeded our pace on stages past - Raul has long suspected many of them have been grabbing buses and cabs, the only viable solution as to why they seemingly have boundless energy.

The hike's excitement is supplemented as we pass adorable animal after adorable animal - a full litter of beagle puppies, kittens stalking birds in the field, ponies, donkeys, baby goats and old loyal dogs laying near the Camino watching Pilgrims go by without an owner in sight.

Various acts of goodwill are repaid throughout the day. An American lady checks in on me as I limp up a hill, noting that I had checked in on her a few times on previous days when she had been sitting and panting in the shade seeking some shelter from the sun. We walk together for a while and exchange the usual Pilgrim pleasantries. She's using a luggage service, started in Viana do Castelo, is traveling alone. Turns out she's from Portland, Maine so we chat at length about our affection for that area in the summer. Further down the road, we find Sal and are able to return his socks. Raul had hand washed them and constructed a makeshift clothesline on his backpack for the day to make sure they were dry in case we came across the good Sal-maritan.

We stop in O Milladoiro for lunch, and find a cafe with a smoker going. We're informed the menu is what we see. We gladly accept and take on so much red meat that I begin to worry if we'll make the final 8 kilometers without needing a siesta. Loretta sneaks away to pay the bill for Raul and I, thanking us for the companionship on the journey.

Fortunately, we all seem to get an extra spark from our feast. The kilometers melt away easily, even as the sun peaks out and warms the day. After we get out of the city center of O Milladoiro, the cathedral spires can be seen in the distance, and the home stretch begins.

(After stopping at our hotel to drop off our bags) The final march to the cathedral is electric. The old town is buzzing filled with locals, vendors, tourists, and Pilgrims - all seemingly in jovial spirits. For the Pilgrims it's easy to understand.

I don't think I can put into words what the arrival to the cathedral is like. The best I can compare it to is the last day of school. It's the destination you feel like you've been dreaming of and working toward for forever. It's bittersweet to see friends disappear for who knows how long. The anticipation of sleeping in and doing nothing tomorrow outweighs that of any coming trips or vacations.

I think I could sit in the plaza all day and just watch how happy people are to arrive. It truly made my day. It was so cool to see Raul bask in the accomplishment. He is such a kind, selfless, and loving man. He deserves every ounce of the triumph he felt in completing a lifelong dream (If we're measuring in Garretts and not Rauls - but even then, a half lifelong dream is pretty amazing too).

He graciously and patiently waited for me on his journey of a lifetime for basically two straight days as I struggled to walk more than half a mile without stopping. He gave me 2/3 of his mole skin supply in order to manage my well documented blister problem.

He basically adopted a "fifth child" for the Camino, providing the same fatherly guidance and comfort that I know Cat and Nick have enjoyed their entire lives to someone whose parents have been in Taiwan for the past two years and, I suspect, really needed a huge dose of decency and kindness.

He nearly turned down a pair of socks and would've opted to walk raw dog for God knows how long if not for stern convincing. I know the feeling well - it's easy to give assistance to those in need, yet so difficult to accept. Not out of pride, but out of the unfathomable possibility of being a minor imposition on someone else.

He obeyed every foreboding hotel sign that informed us the buffet was not a picnic and that food could not supplement Pilgrim rations - even as every other guest blatantly disregarded the establishment's wishes.

He suffered through the hardest day of our journey, inviting in and encouraging another distressed Pilgrim on the way, when he was at his lowest.

He even apologized to Monique in his greatest moment of frustration and ire.

I am so grateful and honored to have accompanied Raul on this journey. So many amazing people played so many incredible roles that wove together to form the tapestry of our Camino. But I'd put Raul against any of 'em when it comes to embodying the virtues so many claim to seek on this path. He clearly has them ingrained in his very essence.

I'm sure Raul is a better man for accomplishing such a challenging feat - a feat that I don't think either of us can quite yet comprehend. But I know anyone who came across San Raul on their journey is a better person for it.

Eleven day of walking down, and one to go. The crowd of walkers are increasing. The paths are packed and until mid afternoon, so are all the accessible cafes and restops along the path.

We stop at a small rest area next to an old church and run into Sal and his family ( see Garrett's intro to Sal), so we park in the shade and relax. With no public bathrooms in sight, I head towards the woods. It must have rained early that morning and the ground is wet. I had decided to wear my open strap sandles to give my feet a needed rest. Unfortunately, I stepped into a deep puddle and soaked my merino wool socks. (The one time I step in a puddle, and Im not wearing my waterproof shoes.)

With no backup socks in my day pack, and none on Garrett, I had quite the dilemma. We still had at least 10 miles to hike and God only knows where the nearest store carrying socks is.

"Here, take these," says Sal as he offers me a spare set of ankle high socks. God bless Sal. He is the man we met at a sidewalk cafe in Baiona while I was having my Caldo Gallego and asked us if we were "walking". I was so tired and hungry that all I could muster was to say "No, we just got here and are eating." We ended up talking to him for a while as he was just about to begin his Camino with his wife and daughter, and a few days later we ran into him again.

That little encounter, on the sidewalk in Baiona, ended up saving my day. I thanked Sal and gladly accepted his kind offer. I hope to see him again so I can return his socks (washed by hand in a hotel sink of course).

We have witnessed many acts of kindness and coincidences that perhaps are a bit more evident on the Camino, but blessings just the same. There are the constant greetings of "Buen Camino" or buenos dias, etc., and we have heard probably every language imaginable.

Yesterday we passed a lady who was frantically trying to untie a small yellow packet that was tied to a fence post on the side of the path. She released it just as we passed and shouted with joy to her friends that she found her packet...and in it her passport. Evidently it had dropped out of her back pocket, and she didn't realize it until she was further up the path. She ran back tracing her steps until she came upon it, placed by a kind stranger in an obviously visible location with the hope that the rightful owner would see it. There is this sense of belonging to something larger here. I see a willingness from strangers to help each other. We seem to acknowledge that though we come from all corners of the world, we are all here for the same reason.

The day ends in Padron, in 90 degree heat and a seemingly endless walk across the gritty side of town to get to our hotel. The hotel is a typical five story building with as many units crammed in as you can get. It has a large parking lot in front and a very nondescript, utilitarian appearance. All I'm looking for is a comfortable bed and a hot shower, so this will due, but I couldn't help compare it to the gem we found ourselves in last night, nor would I ever imagine anything close to that. I thought about Elpidio, and the type of life he has had, yet still working the family estate well into his 70's.

When Elpidio gave us a ride back into town this morning, he picked up just where he left off last night, talking about Galicia and the details of his life. When I told him my last name was Quintana, and asked if this was a common name in the region, his eyes lit up and he said "Yes, of course. Quintana is a very common name here." As he dropped us off and shook my hand, he said "I probably will never see you again. Have a buen camino."

Tomorrow we take our final steps on the Camino de Santiago. I can sense the anticipation, and hopefully all this energy can push us to the end. It will not be a short, nor easy final walk and the key will be getting enough rest. I can honestly say that the experience so for has been nothing like I could have imagined, yet everything I had hoped for.

Today our destination is Caldas de Reis, a small town we considered just a stopping point before our pre-final layover prior to Santiago. We don't know quite what to expect, other than we need to be at a certain pick up point in town, and must select the time to be picked up, either 4:00 PM or 5:00 PM. We also needed to check in on-line and confirm arrival time. We chose 5:00 just to give us some time to get there, and maybe have a beer before we are picked up and driven out of town to the hotel in who knows where.

To leave our hotel in Pontevedra, we pass through the historic old town, one of the most beautiful I have seen on the trip. While ancient, it is not as chaotic or grungy as some of the other medieval town centers. The streets, though narrow, intersect in ways that create interesting plazas and spaces for dining. As we walk through it a cleaning crew is picking up from the festivities of the night before. I'm relieved the walking surfaces are smooth stone pavers (you may tell that I am really tired of cobblestones).

The path is extremely crowded. All of the small cafes along the route are packed and lines form for the restrooms. Restrooms generally have not been an issue, since there is always mother nature. This influx of pilgrims from the interior route confirms something that we have both noticed before.. women far out number men on the Camino. It isn't even close.

For the first time in three days we don't hook up with Loretta. We figured she would stumble into us along the way, but it never happened. Something tells me we will see her on the next leg. I hope she will want to enter Santiago with us.

Pain, of one form or another, is as prevalent as the rising sun on the Camino by this point. Most of the walkers that started in Porto like us, are walking very gingerly. We both need to stop at various points to replace bandages or massage aching calves. Garrett's array of blisters would make your stomach turn, however I've been fortunate to end up with only one, but it is a doozy. The real pain for me is in the muscles of the feet and calves from the many climbs, and the lack of recovery time after marching 6 to 7 hours, day after day for ten days.

I will stop whining now. The Camino is supposed to hurt. It is also supposed to make you laugh (and that has happened a lot), make you break out of your shell and meet people though you don't speak the same language, and you will certainly never see them again, and make you pause to preserve a moment that you know you will remember for the rest of your life.

We arrive at Caldas de Reis around 3:00 so even though we asked for a 5:00 pick-up, we figure why not try to see if they can fetch us on the 4:00 ride. We have no idea where we are going, or who is picking us up. After fumbling numerous attempts to call the hotel on my WhatsApp line, under Garrett's glaring eyes (I'm sure he will post something about how it took me 30 minutes to make a phone call), I finally get through and they can pick us up at 4:00. We grab two really cold beers and wait for the ride.

Sometimes life surprises you. There are moments you don't expect that are true blessings, though we have already seen several on this trip (Garrett finding his walking stick on the steps of a Church when he almost couldn't walk is one). There are God winks from time to time that reminds us that life is full of surprises. This is one of those.

The only way I can describe where we landed is - a centuries old, stone hacienda in the mountains of Galicia, that looks like we walked right on to the set of a movie filmed in a Tuscany villa. I am half expecting the cast from a Room with a View to show up. The country estate has stayed in the same family for several generations. Now it has a pool, a gorgeous patio and grounds, a separate facilities for weddings and special events, and is also a working winery.

For the first time on this trip we are not in an urban center, where dinners start late and social hours last well into the night. I feel like a guest in a private home, and am not sure I want to leave. After dinner we walked down to "la tienda" to meet Elpidio, the owner, winemaker, and a real character. He opens several bottles of his delicious white wine for us and 4 other guests and we spend the next two hours discussing the world of wine making, medicine, politics, and life in Galicia... all in Spanish. It reminded me of nights with my Cuban uncle Charles who could carry a conversation on any subject well into the late evening. He would have loved Elpidio.

Maybe we deserved this small unexpected pleasure. I'm surely not going to question it or underappreciate the moment. I chalk this up to God's grace on two weary souls that have traveled far, and could use this moment to thank their lucky stars and realize how blessed we truly are.